


That Don't Impress Me Much

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Advice, Best Friends, Castiel and Dean Winchester Being Idiots, Dating, Didn't Know They Were Dating, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pickup Lines, Relationship Advice, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, With a hint of angst because it's me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26762746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: “Cas, I know about the bees, you’ve told me this a d—”“Dean, ask me about the bees,” Cas reaffirms. “C’mon. I may just have something different to say.”Dean pinches the bridge of his nose before gesturing permission with the lazy wave of his hand.“Did you know bees can produce up to five pounds of honey in a day and each pound takes fifty-five thousand miles of flight time, but the average bee will only contribute to one-twelfth of that number before they die?” There’s a break in Cas’s speech he spends leaning into the table like Dean did. A smile and a wink find his face, but not before adding: “That’s why it’s so important I take good care of you.”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 121





	That Don't Impress Me Much

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ralsbecket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ralsbecket/gifts).



“I have to confess something,” Cas says, setting down his menu on the splintered wooden table with deliberate hands as he pushes it towards Dean. “I’m having trouble deciding what to eat when nothing looks as appetizing as you.”

“Really?”

“Not good?”

Dean slides both menus to the side as a waitress approaches them from the adjacent table. “I like the confidence in the delivery, but no. See, you want to be more natural. Don’t come off like you’re trying to impress them.”

Dean turns to look to the waitress and down at the table again at the menu pushed to the corner. He apologizes and asks for five more minutes, but thanks her for her attentive customer service and throws her a wink. She tucks a blonde lock behind her ear and scurries along before they can notice her obvious blush.

Cas crosses his arms with a huff. “Well?”

Dean narrows his eyes. “’Well’ what?”

“’ _Don’t come off like you’re trying to impress them’_.”

“She’s a minimum wage worker, Cas. I was just trying to be nice.” Dean pauses. “Okay, maybe that was intentional. But not because I was hitting on her—”

“Right.”

“—I was trying to show you how flirting goes beyond kindness. It’s about physicality, too.”

“Well then teach me nice.”

“Look, like this…” Dean leans back against the worn cushions and fashions a smile—the kind that’s small and speaks more with his half-mass, sparkling green eyes—and cocks his head. “This physicality invites a question, because it’s not as obvious what I’m doing.”

“What _are_ you doing?” Cas asks, “You look like you found your mom’s edible stash.”

“Sorry,” Dean says, leaning forward again, “I just… didn’t notice how blue your eyes are.”

“What if their eyes aren’t blue?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Oh my god, then fit it to their eye color. Hit me, what’s next?”

“Well, when conversation stalls—or if the flirtations don’t land—I ask them about something that I notice straightaway,” Cas says, gesturing to Dean’s chest. “For example, that’s a cool necklace. Where did you get it?”

Dean turns the necklace over in his hand. “Actually, um, it was my dad’s. Well, originally. Sam re-gifted it to me Christmas he didn’t come home.”

“You never told me that,” Cas says, training his mouth and eyes not to convey any sort of pity. Dean hates pity. A little bit must have slipped through a crack in Cas’s façade, because Dean shrugs.

“It’s nothing to talk about,” Dean lies. “But, uh, yeah, that’s good. It shows interest. _However…_ if they do the same back to you, they’re clearly gonna notice the—”

“Bee tattoo, I know.”

“Cas,” Dean sighs like a mother approaching her twelve disappointment with her only son, “it looks like a rollercoaster of skid marks wrapped around your neck. You can’t even see the bee.”

“Yeah, because I grew out my hair again; it’s hiding behind my ear somewhere,” Cas says. Dean shakes his head. “What? Watch, ask me about the bees.”

“Cas, I know about the bees, you’ve told me this a d—”

“Dean, ask me about the bees,” Cas reaffirms. “C’mon. I may just have something different to say.”

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose before gesturing permission with the lazy wave of his hand.

“Did you know bees can produce up to five pounds of honey in a day and each pound takes fifty-five _thousand_ miles of flight time, but the average bee will only contribute to one-twelfth of that number before they die?” There’s a break in Cas’s speech he spends leaning into the table like Dean did. A smile and a wink find his face, but not before adding: “That’s why it’s so important I take good care of you.”

“That was quite the roundabout way of saying I was sweet,” Dean remarks as the waitress from earlier approaches their table again.

“C’mon,” Cas encourages, “you have to at least give me an A for effort.”

“Right,” Dean scoffs, despite the blush climbing his neck. He’s snatches the menu he set aside so Cas can’t see more than the first row of freckles adorning his pinkish nose. “Yeah, I’m uh, gonna have the bacon cheeseburger, medium-rare, extra bacon and cheese.”

Cas smirks as she takes their menus and heads back to the kitchen. “With any luck, that burger will make your heart stop before I can.”

Turning away, Dean hides the bottom half of his face—and the smile on it—in his fist instead.

“Am I getting it?”

Lifting his head, Dean sucks in his lips, swallowing his smile along with the laugh in his throat when he clears it. “I think we’re making progress.”

💋

Once the two of them and their leftovers are safe on the leather black bench of Dean’s ’67 Chevy when he comes to a stop, Dean swivels to face Cas. "Now, Cas, I know you're, like, basically a virgin."

Cas rolls his eyes. "Dean, I had sex with Balthazar, you know that."

"Exactly, but.... you know...before sex, it's an important part of the first date if all goes well, so…” Dean licks his lips, as if trying to wash away the coarseness of the words that settled on them like wet sand. For a brief second, his green eyes-turned hazel from the yellow of his headlights flashing Cas’s apartment dart down to Cas’s lips. “I’m gonna have to teach you how to kiss properly.”

Cas blinks a few times and averts his gaze. His eyes travel from the worn-out steering wheel to the neck of the rearview mirror, where a silver ring on a necklace bobs slightly still from the impact of the initial stop: a gift from Cas five years prior. Dean doesn’t wear rings, even though his mom would like him to (in more ways than one). That’s why Cas bought him a bottle opener instead.

“Cas,” Dean laughs, “it was just a joke. I love you, but that would just be a bit _much—”_

Realizing he still hasn’t responded, Cas snaps his head back to Dean and the present. “Sorry. Um. No, I, actually…” Cas closes his eyes as he wonders where he’s going with this statement. “I think it’s a good idea.”

Dean’s eyes shoot up. “Really? I mean, it wouldn’t be weird for you to kiss me?”

“Dean, we’ve been friends for eleven years,” Cas illustrates, narrowing his own. “Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Come again?”

“December 31, 2015. You were turning twenty-one, so you got hammered when we watched the ball drop on channel 15 and you laid one on me.”

Dean throws his head back with a small hum. “Was it any good?”

“You tasted like bottom-shelf whiskey and buffalo wings.”

“Well then,” Dean says, adjusting in his seat so he has an arm slung around the bench and he’s facing Cas, “let’s make a better memory.”

“Whoa whoa,” Cas exclaims, holding up a finger, “you said _you_ were gonna teach me. I’m waiting for you to make the first move, Professor.”

Despite his carefree chuckle, every move Dean makes thereafter is deliberate and careful—as if Cas is the last piece of china in a shop devastated by an earthquake. The hand not resting on his bench reaches out to rest on Cas’s face and it feels as though someone kicked his chest because it hits him: They’re really doing this. Dean’s really swiping his thumb across Cas’s cheeks like a windshield wiper, ready to catch any tears that may fall. Cas turns back to look at him when he feels Dean’s pulse speed up to find him hesitating on Cas’s lips and licking his own, and he realizes:

Dean wants this.

And that’s enough for Cas to surge forward, closing the gap between them.

Dean’s other hand follows suit, cupping Cas’s face as he increases the pressure and neediness. He even intercepts their mouths with the brush of his thumb against Cas’s bottom lip, hooking and pulling down lightly on it to urge Cas’s mouth wider. Cas kisses his finger before obliging. 

After a moment of trading soft, but hungry kisses, Cas pulls back to grin down at Dean, who blinks as he looks around, realizing he’s pinned underneath Cas.

“I’d, uh, say you have that down to an art,” he remarks.

Cas shakes his head. “Only when I’m kissing you,” he says, scooping down to steal one more kiss that leaves Dean chasing after his lips. “I actually had no idea you were into me.”

“Wait, so… this _wasn’t_ some kind of reverse Gay Chicken?”

“If it was, you’d be the most cock-hungry hen in the barn,” Cas laughs. “Dean, I’ve loved you since before you convinced me to join Tinder—of course I’ve wanted to kiss you. And I knew you were bi before I knew I was gay… I just thought that was your way of expressing you _weren’t_ interested. I thought you had a preference for women.”

“I do,” Dean affirms, reaching up to drag his thumb across Cas’s bottom lip again. “And you.”

Cas shakes his head with a small smile. “Dean, you didn’t have to try and impress me.”

“I was just being nice,” Dean replies without missing a beat, or a wink.

Cas shuts him up once and for all with a kiss.


End file.
